We have the “pandemic” with the threat/promise of more contagions; wars and preparations for further conflicts; climate change; democide. (I don’t think that’s everything.)
I am too old to bother with prepping for survival, but I am interested enough in what is going down to spend most of each morning catching up with “events”. I now have less time for Filey history and genealogy. But what is the point of that anyway, if the end of the world is nigh?
Of course, we may not be doomed, so I will continue to put St Oswald headstones on the FamilySearch Shared Tree, for as long as the Old Internet remains accessible. I doubt I will be allowed onto the planned New Internet. Going forward, I will attempt to post a stone each Wednesday and Saturday.
Photographs of Filey are more popular than the history, so I will continue to post an image each day.
I may also briefly document the continuing human adventure, as reported by journalists and commentators. (Picked up pieces.)
It’s not dark yet, but we are getting there. It has been a long journey. At breakfast this morning, I read Simon Schama on the “prodigy” Samuel Palmer. As part of his education, there were “outdoor excursions into suburban pastoral”.
To persuade themselves that the deep country was the spiritual corrective to the grinding materialism of the town, the Romantics had to close their eyes to the brutalities of the modern British countryside, where enclosures, the peremptory disappearance of common grazing, and the incoming revolution of threshing machines had liquidated small tenancies, impoverished rural labourers, ignited violent attacks on the machines, brought militia into the villages, and sent multitudes into the rookeries of the towns and the maw of the factories.
The Face of Britain, p.384